


Avoidance

by Zhie



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Dynamics, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Living Together, Memories, Oaths & Vows, Rebirth, Redemption, Stand Alone, Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: When it is announced that the Dagor Dagorath can be avoided if one of the residents of Valinor takes responsibility for Morgoth and shows him kindness, a member of the House of Finwë steps forward.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written 'live' in Fanfiction Theatre at Erestor's Library, beginning on 9/28/2019 (which is when the writing occurs in a chat room with others watching). If you're interested in watching future live writes or just hanging out with Tolkien fans, here's a link to the discord server: https://discord.gg/HtuZZ4N
> 
> Since this is WIP, once I figure out rating and such, I will update. I expect it to land around Teen or Mature.

They were several hours away from Tirion, riding without purpose or destination other than to get away--away from family, away from the Valar, away from the lingering responsibility that Maedhros knew Fingon would place upon himself. When they stopped to let the horses drink, the wind was not there to muffle advice or accusations, and Maedhros got right to the point: "You already made up your mind to do it."

Fingon would not make eye-contact. There was a thrush in a tree and he focused on that. "Someone has to."

"Does it always have to be you? Hear me out; I appreciate and have been an obvious recipient of the good things that tend to happen when you make bad decisions. I just...this is not a thing you conquer or overcome or find or do that entails a short span of your life and is over. This is a commitment."

Fingon turned his head and looked over Maedhros, already reading between the lines. "What if we finally get married. Before it happens."

Slowly, Maedhros shook his head. As many times as he had hinted to it in the past... "I think that makes it worse."

Fingon went back to studying the thrush.

"I am going to support you. You know that." Maedhros adjusted himself on the saddle. "How long do you want to keep riding?"

"Probably until nightfall."

"Do you have a particular place in mind, or are we heading back home at some point?" When Fingon did not answer, Maedhros spoke a little louder. "You know I am going to support you. I am not going to turn my back on this just because I think this is a terrible idea."

"Someone has to do it. You heard what the Valar said."

"Why does that someone always have to be you, though?"

Several times, Fingon opened and closed his mouth. He snorted; the horse snorted back. The thrush flew away. "Who else will? You heard how everyone reacted."

"And that is why this is such a bad idea."

Fingon shifted on his mount now. "I would rather prevent a war than win a war," he finally stated. "The Valar seem certain this will prevent the Dagor Dagorath from happening."

"Maybe it is supposed to happen. Maybe that is what Eru wants to have happen." Maedhros considered for a moment, and then began, "My father said--"

"No, thank you. I am not inclined to listen to your father's advice on this matter." Fingon's voice was stern, harkening back to days when the gold in his braids was complimented by the woven crown on his brow. "He will always carry a bias with him."

"And you do not?!" Maedhros cleared his throat. The tone of his voice scared off a trio of chipmunks who had been frolicking near the water. "I have deep concern for you."

"I will be fine." Fingon's response made it seem as if all he intended was to wade out into the water and find something dropped in the shallows.

"I have deep concern for us," Maedhros added, his voice cracking a little.

Fingon adjusted his gloves and looked up to gage the path of the sun. "When everyone is assembled, I will wait to see if another steps forward first," said Fingon solemnly. "I like this idea no more than you, but as my father has told me over and over, we are born into these responsibilities, and we can feel them in our souls. I would be wrong of me not to offer, for the good of the people."

"Maybe your father should do this."

"Oh--no. No. I think we know how well that would end."

Maedhros continued to delay their departure. If he could keep Fingon talking long enough, there was a chance of returning to Tirion for the night, to a good meal, an evening with his brothers, and a nice bed. "Perhaps that is the ideal, though. The Valar might be turning Morgoth out of the Void so that someone does finish what your father started."

"They asked for a protector, not a murderer." Fingon's eyes drew dark. "If the intent was to kill Melkor, that would be more easily accomplished by the Valar than any of us, and while he is helplessly chained in the abyss."

Maedhros flinched. "Melkor is it now? Then you have already made your decision."

Fingon turned the leather straps of the reins over in his hands. "No one else will. I just know." He looked about ready to pull off and away to some other random place in Valinor, but he closed his eyes, groaned, and opened his eyes again to look sideways at Maedhros. "In the midst of that whole speech the Valar were giving, Felagund and Galadriel kept looking at me and whispering."

"That means nothing. Those two are just odd ducks," said Maedhros.

"Before I asked you to come riding, Felagund came to me, set his hands upon my shoulders, and said, 'I am sorry'."

"Slightly more foreboding, to be sure." Maedhros shook his head and muttered, "Why the fuck does he have to do it that way? Damned prophets."

"I will understand if you would prefer we--" Fingon sucked at his bottom lip, creating a most unpleasant sound that Maedhros was used to hearing when words failed due to frustration and unvoiced worry. "I am sure I can find elsewhere to live, at least while the uproar over it all settles."

"First of all, do you really think I would turn you out? Second, marriage or no, we are..." Hmm. Well, that they had never quite figured out or agreed upon. Trailing off always sufficed, whether trying to explain to strangers or in the midst of an argument, which this was coming dangerously close to being. "Besides...in listening to them, I interpret their words to mean that this is a temporary situation. What were your thoughts?"

"I thought the same. Someone just needs to show kindness and compassion, and somehow, this is meant to keep him from destroying all the things again." Fingon rubbed his forehead. "Someone asked me recently, before all this happened, why I ever went to Middle-earth in the first place. I had no desire for power, none for wealth, nor land, nor recognition. Why was I so adamant about going there?" The reason could not be Maedhros, not at that time. Only after the rescue had Maedhros pledged himself in secret to Fingon, and in the years that followed, developed not only a strong fealty to him, but a great and powerful romantic love that could not oft be explained by him. Fingon, in return, very much enjoyed Maedhros' company, and loved him in his own way, as something quite a lot more than a cousin, but not exactly as a lover. "I just want to live in peace. If doing this brings that, I am willing to make a sacrifice for it."

A light mist announcing rain to come was welcomed by Maedhros, who used it as an opportunity. "You mind is made up. We should return home and make preparations."

"What preparations?" Leave it to Fingon to decide on his final destination without considering the path, for had any path ever been too much for him to travel?

"They cut off his legs before he was thrown into the Void," Maedhros reminded Fingon. "He will be useless on stairs, unless you intend to carry him, and the house has many flights."

"I did not consider that," admitted Fingon.

"We will need to set up something on the main floor," reasoned Maedhros. "Also food, also weapons--not only to protect ourselves from him, but to protect him from the crowds of unhappy citizens who will no doubt want to have a moment of 'discussion' with him." Maedhros edged his horse from the water and in the direction of Tirion. "Come. Caranthir will love an excuse to build more rooms or renovate something, even if it is for Morgoth's arrival."

Fingon seemed as if he wanted to keep riding in the opposite direction, but finally acquiesced and followed Maedhros on the journey back home.

A week later, at the appointed time, an assemblage of all those in Valinor who wished to be present for the release of Morgoth packed the court of Manwë, and spilled out into the streets and on the green, and Elves were everywhere. Fingon and Maedhros had just managed to get inside, but were situated near to the back. While this was not much of a difficulty for Maedhros, who could see over all others, Fingon had the view of someone's intricately braided hair and not much else. "It should quiet down once they arrive," shouted Maedhros to be heard over the din.

"What?" Fingon leaned in closer. "Try that again?"

Maedhros put an arm around Fingon to keep them from becoming separated and bowed his head down. He looked about and hoped to see others whom he recognized, for he had spoken to his brothers, and all had agreed to be present and offer aid as a guard, should ill come of the release, despite both Fëanor and Fingolfin being (for once) wholly against a thing. "It should quiet down soon!"

Fingon flinched. "No need to shout in my ear!"

Maedhros grimaced. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"What?!"

Before the conversation could continue, Manwë stepped forward and the conversation died down almost immediately. "Thou hast come to bear witness to an event of great import. One amongst you shall take as your responsibility my brother, whom has lived in the solitude of the Void far longer than most of you here have lived. One amongst you shall teach him kindness and compassion, and be taught in turn. One amongst you has the fortitude and will to see this task through. Who among you shall it be?"

True to his word, Fingon said nothing, giving someone--anyone--a chance to respond before he did. The crowd remained silent, and so once again, Manwë spoke: "Who amongst you shall take up this task? Who amongst you shall see this done?"

A tap on Maedhros shoulder brought his concentration on the tense scene to someone else, and he grinned to see Curufin standing beside him on his left. He slid his arm away from Fingon so that he could embrace his brother. As expected, he saw Celegorm behind. "Maglor and the Ambarussa should be in soon. Father stopped us and gave us some grave warnings and told us he dared not enter and things like that. Then he damned near made us swear an oath, but Caranthir reminded him he is not allowed to do that anymore."

It was not the Valar, but Finwë himself who had imposed that edict. Fëanor grudgingly obeyed, but now and then, would be on the cusp of having his sons swear something to him.

"Mother is going to keep him outside," added Curufin.

They were not the only ones speaking, for a buzz was growing in the crowd. At the front, Manwë's voice boomed again. "Is there no one who shall see this through?"

Maedhros turned to address Fingon, for they had spent the better part of the previous night deciding how long to wait, and talking over all of the plans. Maglor had been there, too, mostly for moral support, to keep them awake while they organized everything and came up with last-minute preparations, and to sing them to sleep when they finally needed to rest but were too wide-awake to want to sleep. However, Fingon was no longer standing beside him. In a panic, he looked around, but it was Celegorm who came to his aid. "Over there. Come on--we should follow him."

Fingon was squeezing his way to the front of the hall. He had tried to shout once already and waved an arm over his head, but his stature was such that while he had been able to move with ease in foreign lands to reach Maedhros once upon a time, unseen and unheard (even as he played his harp and sang), he remained now unseen by Manwë, who began to speak gravely of the decision being made. It was only as Manwë slowly turned his back upon the Elves who had come this day that Fingon managed to shout out with all his might, "Wait!" and finally be heard.

Manwë turned around as Fingon pushed his way out from the crowd and stumbled forward to the marble steps, where he did not so much mean to throw himself at the feet of Manwë, but did so all the same. On his knees, he bowed his head, and then did look up upon the majesty of Manwë Súlimo and spoke. "I will take up this task. I will do as you ask. I am honored to serve you." And then, Fingon bowed his head again.

Out from the crowd, Maedhros and Celegorm sprung, with Curufin close on their heels. There was dissonance behind them; no doubt the other four brothers were attempting to reach them. Manwë looked now at Maedhros and Celegorm, and Curufin, and then to Maedhros. "Hast thou come to dispute yonder cousin, or in defiance of mine decree?"

Maedhros shook his head furiously, his loose hair like wisps of untamed flame around his face. "We..." Maedhros swallowed hard as Fingon looked over his shoulder at this trio of cousins, but those dark eyes were upon Maedhros alone. Maedhros lowered himself to one knee. "We offer to Findekáno, our cousin and blood, our allegiance and promise to aid him in whatever ways we can, and to see this task fulfilled."

Awkwardly, Celegorm joined his brother, whispering very softly, "I thought we were just going to make sure they both got out of here alive." To Curufin, who knelt now beside Celegorm, he said, "Father is going to be a furious ferret when we get home."

There was a little more commotion as Maglor, with the Ambarussa, and now Caranthir, too, managed to emerge from the crowd, and without hesitation, joined their brothers at the feet of Manwë. "Very good," spoke the Vala, and he turned away from them once again, only to nod to Varda, who had been just a little behind him the entire time. She nodded and walked to the right, behind heavy drapery of velvet, footsteps silent as the reaction of the crowd grew.

Maedhros tried to ignore the words that rose up behind him, but it was difficult not to pick up phrases and whole sentences while he and his brother knelt silently.

\--do not care if I kill a prince of the Noldor, if I can get my hands on that bastard--

\--dirty, lying son-of-a--

\--They were no better than him! Kinslayers! That is what we used to call them, before the Reparations!--

Ah, yes. The Reparations. The period of time when Kinslayers were put on trial, judged, and sentenced. Some to labor, some to craft without compensation, some to publicly denounce what they had done, telling younger generations who had never seen the glory of the trees nor the First Age nor even really understood what Middle-earth was about the crimes committed and their deep desire to be forgiven.

Fingon had been one such lecturer, centuries ago. He would stand alone, before crowds of people who had already judged him, and speak freely about what he had done, and how much regret he had. He would ask forgiveness, but would end by telling those present not to grant it to him, for his transgressions were beyond recompense.

The people loved hearing that. They loved the justification of their anger, and they loved having someone to direct it to.

Fingon would always come home after these engagements, go to the wine cellar, and weep for hours with the door locked.

Maedhros believed that only he knew how strong Fingon really was.

\--if they try leaving, they will have my sword to--

\--should never have let them out of the Halls of Waiting! If I were Namo--

Maedhros looked over at Curufin, and then at Caranthir, the two most likely to shout back. Caranthir was on the other side of Maglor, and Maglor had a hand upon Caranthir's back in comfort. Curufin had his fists balled up, and looked ready to spring. There was so much noise that Maedhros could not get words to Curufin, but he said to Celegorm, "Tell him to be calm."

Celegorm leaned nearer to Curufin and whispered to him. Curufin took several deep breaths, and Celegorm nodded to Maedhros as movement was seen on the dais.

It was not Varda, but Nienna, who came now to the center and looked upon them all. She was draped in a dark cloak, and only her veiled face could be seen as she moved. "A great burden and responsibility has been accepted unto you, Findekáno Astaldo." Nienna stopped when she stood beside Manwë, and Manwë beckoned Fingon to stand.

Slowly, Fingon stood up, and all became quieted in the room. Everyone strained to hear the first words that Morgoth would speak when seen again after so long (and for many, for the first time). More of those who had stayed out now pressed on and in, so that Maedhros could feel that there were people right up behind him and his brothers, and he instinctively rested a hand upon the hilt of his sword.

Two handmaids of Nienna walked from a place unseen, and came to either side of her. Simultaneously, they drew back the veil and pushed the cloak from her shoulders and it pooled upon the floor. Nienna held something in her arms, and Fingon took a tentative step forward.

Fingon blinked in confusion when he saw what Nienna held. He looked questioningly up at Manwë.

Manwë pivoted and reached down to take the bundle that Nienna held, but there was movement, and a sudden whine, and then, a shriek and a wail.

Fingon bolted up the stairs and pulled the bundle away from Nienna, cradling the baby wrapped in black cloth to his chest. "Shhh...shhh...it is alright...I am going to take care of you." He looked down at the frightened face, the black eyes and matching hair, though it was no more than fuzz at present. Fingon expected the babe to cry again, but instead, there was a cautious calm. He turned, holding the child, and now was looking out over the sea of people who had come with the intention of killing that which he held in his arms.

The seven Fëanorians stood and blocked off the stairway from all others who might try to reach Fingon and Morgoth, and Maedhros at the center, with his arms crossed over his chest. Disquiet began to rise from the crowd again, and so Fingon attempted to send them off with: "I think--I think you should all go home now."

There were a lot of confused looks as the audience comprehended what was going on. Someone near the front shouted, "He is just an infant! Kill it now!"

The mob seemed to sweep forward, and Manwë countered with the sound of thunder and mighty boom of his voice. "No blood shall ye spill within my domain! Dost thou not recall, he is mine brother?"

Fingon clutched the baby, who grew restless, and watched as his father and uncle navigated a path through the crowd until they were able to reach the dais and slip between Maglor and Maedhros to stand on either side of Fingon. "What will be accomplished by this? Have we not learned from our own experiences that violence is not a solution?" It was Fëanor speaking, but Fingolfin nodded in agreement. "Who among us is without sin?"

"Easy for you to say!"

"Murderer!"

"Liar! Kill him, too!"

"Peace! I beg of you, peace!" This voice came from those standing in the hall, and from them Finarfin emerged, his hands held up.

He had with him Finrod Felagund, and between them, their words stilled the masses. "Rebirth is renewal, and a chance for redemption. Many years have passed; few among you were directly impacted by the deeds of spirit that inhabits this tiny, reborn form. Will you not give him a chance to learn, and repent?"

"Why should we give him a chance? He had chances!"

Fingon stepped to the edge of the dais and spoke clearly as he said, "I have taken up this task, and will protect him as is asked of me, but I intend to fulfill the entire duty, and aid in what way I can so that he is not a danger. Will you not give me that chance?"

Then behind him, Namo appeared and raised an arm aloft and said, "Blood enough has been spilled on these shores! Begone, and be well! It is not the will of Eru nor of Manwë that Melkor come to harm this day; return home, and be not troubled, for just as Findekáno has chosen, so, too, has he been chosen."

This seemed to appease some, and at least calmed others, and from the hall all went, until at the last, only those who had come to Fingon's aid remained. And Nienna stood amid them, and blessed them, and to Fingon she gave her veil, a cloth which would conceal from all others whatever was beneath it, which Fingon used to wrap around the baby in his arms before he left with the others riding around him. Swiftly they went, and did not stop until they reached the house he and Maedhros shared.


	2. Chapter 2

A flurry of activity arose once they arrived at the house. The compound consisted of roughly two dozen houses; during the Reparations, when most of them lost what wealth and property they had, there was a time when those who were not imprisoned all lived in one house. That was all before Maglor returned; it was often said that it was best Maglor was not there to see Celegorm and Curufin in the work camp, nor having to visit his other brothers while they served time. Only Maedhros had been spared--when the Trials began, Fingon and all of the younger brothers of Maedhros concentrated their efforts in keeping him from incarceration. At each of their own hearings, they made sure to emphasize the cruelty Maedhros had been subjected to, convincing the judges that Maedhros had already endured his own punishment. All that was required of him was a letter to be read at his hearing in order to be pardoned; the letter was put on display at the Telerin Remembrance Memorial and Museum, right at the front doors, as a reminder to everyone who visited. (Kinslayers were now required to tour the building at least once every five years.) Fingon's sentence was short; more so that it could be said that not even the once High King was spared punishment, though he was released after only a month, and before Maedhros had even gone on trial.

When the dust settled, most of the Feanorians were in jail or under scrutiny. This had left Maedhros, Fingon, Nerdanel, Celebrimbor, and the wives of Maedhros' brothers to try to rebuild homes and lives. They started with a two room log cabin; when Caranthir, who was the next one released (for good behaviour -- something of a tongue-in-cheek joke among the others for years later) found his way home, he got to work immediately on expanding that house and building others. The separation lasted over three hundred years, from the day that Celegorm was sentenced and taken away until the night Feanor finally arrived back and collapsed in a heap upon Nerdanel's bed.

He was not immediately recognizable. Unlike his sons, who had been housed in prisons with others, Feanor's ordeal began with six months in a public pillory which moved from town to town--a living reminder of the atrocities that had befallen those in Valinor just before the dawn of the First Age. When that was fulfilled, he was taken north, to a location no one in the family knew, and only the most basic of updates ever reached them. (In contrast, Maedhros was able to write to his brothers on a weekly basis, and did so. Letters back from Celegorm and Curufin were rare, but they came with frequency from the others.)

Feanor came home a shadow of his former self; his hair was cropped close to the scalp and his eyes were slightly yellowed.  
His skin was dry, and showed signs of regular sores. He had a limp that never quite left him after that, and never spoke of what happened to him in the centuries he was gone from the rest of the family, except to Nerdanel, who kept that knowledge from the others, and to Fingolfin, who spent those years pleading for the release of his brother. He did manage to lessen his sentence; Feanor had originally been condemned to a thousand years. It was a small victory for Fingolfin, but it meant everything to Feanor, who was much closer to his brother now (the half had been dropped when Feanor was reunited with his kin).  
  
Years had passed since then. Feanor was healed in time (save for the limp), and came now around the corner into the great room with a stack of soft linens. "Nerdanel is looking for other things for you to use. She thinks she might have some suckling ewers. Are you going to construct the nursery down here, or upstairs?"

"Uh..." It was one of many questions that had been asked of Fingon, who tried to answer to the best of his abilities, but was feeling overwhelmed. Maedhros, who was being asked questions of others, overheard and paused his conversation with Curufin.

"I think it should be upstairs--in fact, Curufin is going to bring us a--a--cradle?"

"Close. A crib," called out Curufin.

"Baby prison," added Celegorm, and Curufin smacked his brother's shoulder.

Maedhros motioned up. "It makes sense to set it all up in Fingon's room. Then he can hear if the baby fusses at night."

Feanor gave a single nod and then left the room to presumably take the linens upstairs.

Maglor came up next, holding an open book that was inside of another open book. "This one has the recipe for the baby milk mother mentioned. Goat milk, coconut milk, a few other things--I can try to make it. He is going to be hungry at some point."

"Yes, thank you," said Maedhros. Maglor was replaced by Amras, who held out a crate to Maedhros. "What is this?"

"Nappies," said Amras.

"Upstairs," directed Maedhros. The flow of questions suddenly stopped, and Maedhros looked at Fingon. "How are you feeling?"

"Overwhelmed." Fingon looked down at the bundle in his arms. "At least he is still sleeping." He looked up at Maedhros, and standing so close, he had to tilt his head as far as it could go. "I thought I could do this."

"You can do this." Maedhros rested a hand on Fingon's shoulder. "It is going to be easier, at least to begin with."

"Maybe for you. I know nothing about children, and even less about babies."  
  
"Which means you are precisely where most fathers start." Maedhros looked down at the slumbering infant. "What are you going to name him?"

"That seems as great a responsibility as it will be to raise him." Fingon was not forced to make that decision immediately, for Anairë came into the house, with some of her ladies following behind, and all of them carrying various supplies. Fingolfin, his wife, and his other children, hallowed as heroes in various ways, were not subjected to the same ire the kinslayers were, and so they lived in the palace of Finwë, and enjoyed all the rights and privileges thereof. It was not often that Fingon's mother came to visit him here, and the times when he set foot in the palace were infrequent. There was a joyful reunion between them; she had refused to come to the proclamation of the Valar, and chose not to attend today, either, knowing full well what her eldest intended.

"We brought some things," she said, as if that was not evident.

"Upstairs," directed Maedhros to the others, and he left Fingon alone with Anairë for a moment.

"He is so...small," remarked Anairë once she and her son were left standing in the middle of the room without anyone else around.

"I was just expressing my concern to Timo," said Fingon softly, mindful not to wake his charge. "I thought, if I had to, I could overpower him. I studied him. I know what he says and does. This was not what I expected."

Anairë kissed her son's brow. Even she was taller than he was. "You will be fine. You might not sleep much for the next three months, but you will be fine." She looked down at the baby again. "Have you a name for him?"  
  
Fingon cringed. "I need people to stop asking me that for now. My head is swimming."

Maglor emerged from the kitchen, proudly holding a pitcher. "I followed the recipe perfectly. You should have more than enough for tonight."

"Thank you." Fingon stepped back as suddenly Curufin and Celegorm were back again, bringing the crib in through the door with more than a little difficulty. Fingon decided to seat himself on the sofa while he watched the fast transformation before him, and knew that upstairs, more of the same was going on.

By the time most everyone cleared out, his room had become a partial nursery, his mother had rearranged the linen closet, Nerdanel had packed up half of the wine glasses to make room for feeding ewers and bowls, and a cradle was now in the room beside the couch. The baby, for Fingon had yet to decide on that, had been changed, fed, changed again, and was now sleepily resting in Fingon's arms, his eyes fixated on the shimmer of gold in Fingon's braids.

Only Maedhros, Fingon, and Fëanor were in the house. Fëanor was smoking his pipe; it was a habit that he had not had prior to the Reparations. No longer was he allowed to craft at the smithy, or tinker with jewels--all part of the sentence handed down from the judges. It seemed it was his one way to keep connected to the fire he so loved. He now did his best to instruct others without entering the forge, and employed his time to being both teacher and nanny to his grandchildren. It allowed his sons and daughters-in-law the ability to work on crafts of their own and what business they had in selling at the market, and hunting, and farming. For Nerdanel, it meant all the time she wanted at her workshop, and the statues she created were by far the thing that supported the family now that Fëanor was unable to contribute as he once had.

He was also an excellent cook, and this meant he was now arranging food on the end table. Steamed greens with bacon, and seasoned with nutmeg and cinnamon and honey, and a plate of cheese beside a bowl of fruit. There were some spiced apple biscuits, too, and Fingon smiled, for Fëanor knew these were his favorite.  
  
Fëanor sat down beside Fingon and looked him over. "You look overwhelmed."

"Indeed." Fingon sighed. "I think I am too nervous and tired to eat."

"You have to eat." Both Fëanor and Maedhros declared the same thing at the same time. Fëanor pointed across the room at Maedhros. "You, too." He then held out his arms to Fingon.

Fingon stared down at Fëanor's hands for a moment, and then back up at his uncle. "You...you actually...you want to help?"

"This child--whomever he is--I think all of us have accepted him as your child. And if he is your child..." Fëanor lowered his arms for a moment and looked to Maedhros. "As I have said before, I need not know what your relationship is to each other, but I know enough to know that if Fingon is raising this child, that means both of you are raising this child, and that makes this child, in my mind, my grandchild. Now, the two of you need to eat, and I am offering to aid you."

Gratefully, Fingon placed the bundled baby in Fëanor's arms as Maedhros came to sit down on the other side. Maedhros was closest to the table, and he procured a chunk of cheese, which he bit into and then passed the rest to Fingon. Fingon leaned his head against Maedhros' shoulder as he sleepily ate whatever was handed to him or lifted to his lips on a fork. "I half expected him to start crying," said Fingon after several quiet minutes passed.

"He is a baby. He is sleeping." Fëanor leaned back, still carefully cradling the babe. "I want you to know that I am proud of both of you for doing this. Nerdanel and I talked about it, obviously without knowing this was the plan the Valar had, and we considered it, but ultimately, I could not bring myself to make the sacrifice you are making. I want you to know that we intend to stand by you through all of this. Your brothers as well," he said to Maedhros, who nodded. "I was told by Curufin what happened today, before Fingolfin and I reached you."

Maedhros cringed.

"I am very proud of both of you," reiterated Fëanor. "Once you finish eating, you should take the little one upstairs and settle in for the night. I can take care of the mess Maglor made in the kitchen."  
  
There were no protests, and it was not long before Fingon carried the baby up while Maedhros followed behind with a pitcher of makeshift milk, which Fëanor had thoughtfully warmed for them. Fingon stepped into his room for the first time since the flurry of activity, and he found his bed was shoved to the side to make room for the crib. There was a changing table where he once had a desk, and one of the chairs he kept by the window had been replaced with a rocker. Fingon carried the infant to the crib, and almost too easily, placed him onto the tiny mattress.

"Can I...get anything for you? Or...would you like me to stay for a little while?" Maedhros stood at the threshold.

Fingon looked down at the swaddled baby for a few moments before he looked over his shoulder at Maedhros. "I think we need to talk," he said softly. He walked back to his bed, sat down, and patted and empty spot beside him.  
  
Maedhros joined him and tried not to seem as nervous as he was. "We should work out a feeding and sleeping schedule," said Maedhros as soon as he sat down. "If he is anything like my brothers were--"

"We need to talk about our relationship, beyond the responsibilities we will have to him." Fingon looked at the cradle, and then back to Maedhros. "You know I am very fond of you."

Maedhros squirmed slightly. This talk had only happened twice before--once on the eve of the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, and once on the eve of Maedhros' trial for the Great Noldorin Judgement. "And I am very fond of you."

"Yes. I know that." Fingon rubbed his hands against his thighs. "There have been times I have wished that I had what desires you do, but...for whatever purpose, that is not to be. However...there is something I wish to ask of you, and it seems almost cruel to do so."

"I would do anything for you." The words flowed freely from Maedhros' lips.

Fingon smiled. "I know that as well." He took a deep breath. "I find myself overwhelmed, and in need of...some sort of comfort, and I...if it is too much, please do not feel you must submit to my request, but if you might hold me tonight, I think it might sooth me. I just...I cannot reciprocate with more. You understand?"

Maedhros' heart fluttered. "It would honor me to do this for you, even if it is just for tonight--but I must be honest in saying, it would please me more for this to be the first night of many." Maedhros swallowed hard, and blurted out, "It pleases me so much, I have the greatest desire to kiss you right now."

Fingon's muscles stiffened, but he gave the slightest nod. "I suppose that would not hurt," he said quietly.

And Maedhros reached out and took hold of Fingon's hand. He stroked it reverently, and then lifted it to his lips. After placing the gentlest kiss on the back of Fingon's hand, he said, "I am going to get my pillow and blanket and I will be right back."  
  
Fingon sat and listened for any movement or sound from the crib as Maedhros retrieved items from his bedroom. When Maedhros came back into the room, Fingon was rubbing the back of his hand. "Is everything alright?" asked Maedhros uncertainly.

"I just...I was expecting..." Fingon shook his head. "Never mind."

Maedhros lifted Fingon's chin with two fingers and said as he looked down at him, "I will never do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I only wanted you to know how I feel." Maedhros leaned down and kissed Fingon's brow. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Fingon reached up, and Maedhros sat back down so that they could embrace without awkwardly stretching. "I am so tired," he moaned when he let go of Maedhros.

"We should sleep while we can," said Maedhros. He was already unfastening his tunic. He did so slowly, waiting for Fingon to determine the specifics, and when the darker Elf shed his over-clothes, yet remained in his undershirt and leggings, Maedhros opted to do the same. He spooned up against Fingon when he was beckoned to do so, and drifted off to dreamland with the object of his affection in his arms, the mass of thick and slightly coarse braids tickling his chin, and Maedhros minding it not at all.


End file.
